


a wolf in a sheepskin coat

by honey_wheeler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Snow requires more convincing than any man Satin has ever known, and Satin has known a great many men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a wolf in a sheepskin coat

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Волк в овечьей шкуре](https://archiveofourown.org/works/763773) by [Olivin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olivin/pseuds/Olivin)



> For the kinkmeme prompt: Jon/Satin, with [this NSFW image](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lncxwhBZ8E1qbuhc2o1_r1_500.jpg).

Lord Snow requires more convincing than any man Satin has ever known, and Satin has known a great many men. Even among his Night’s Watch brothers, Lord Snow stands out. The vows he holds to as if they’re the only thing keeping him afloat in a hostile sea are the same vows the others obey with a wink and a smile, holding to the letter but not necessarily the spirit. If Satin had a gold coin for every time one of his brothers had groped him, pushing a hard cock to his hip and saying, “You’re no woman but you’re prettier than one, so does that count?” and thinking himself quite clever, Satin would be the richest man in the North.

Lord Snow had not offered such clever quips. Indeed, he’d pushed Satin away the first time Satin leaned against him to kiss that pretty mouth – the black brothers may call Satin prettier than a woman, but Jon Snow’s mouth is prettier still – and rub a hand over the front of Snow’s breeches. There’d been no anger in Lord Snow’s face, he’d not insulted or chastised Satin, only gently putting him away with an apology in his eyes. Nonetheless, it had hurt. Satin had spent his life doing what others wanted of him, acting on their desires and seldom on his own. To have his own desires rebuffed, however kindly, was a bitter pill. He’d sulked for a day or two, had resolved himself not to make such overtures again. But that was before Lord Snow had gotten drunk, before he’d leaned into Satin’s hands when Satin levered him from his chair to push him to bed. Before Satin had lost his head and teased a release from Lord Snow’s cock with his hand until Jon remembered himself and set Satin away with regret.

“My vows,” he’d said, his body tilting towards Satin in his drunkenness and, Satin’s sure of it now, his desire, “ _our_ vows,” and well, vows are a much easier thing to sidestep than a lack of desire.

Still it had taken more convincing than Satin thought possible. Satin had stolen kisses, he’d seduced with his touch, bestowing caresses in the early light of dawn when Jon was at his most vulnerable, when he would touch Satin with greedy, sleepy fingers and let him suck his cock, his hands gentle and needy in Satin’s hair, his moans of pleasure softer and richer than the furs around them. Dismay would cross his face after, he would go about his duties with an alacrity that exhausted everyone around him. He would avoid Satin’s touch the whole of the day and into the night, until the next morning he would seek him out again and let him do as he would. Lord Snow’s battle with his honor ebbed and flowed like the tide, and it pulled Satin along with him in a constant dance of need and denial.

Of course, all that effort at overcoming such ardent, misguided honor only makes it all the sweeter when Satin finally gets Jon Snow’s cock in his arse.

“Satin,” Jon moans, “No, this…we shouldn’t… _Satin_.” Satin is too overcome with the feel of him to care at his feeble attempts to grasp at the shreds of his honor. Later he’ll find it endearing, he’ll think on it with smug satisfaction, but for now he only sits back against Jon’s chest with his knees spread, calves along the outside of Jon’s, shivers at his cock hard and hot inside him, wishes Jon would slide the hand at Satin’s belly down to wrap around his own cock just as hard and hot. Another man would. But Jon Snow’s not any other man, it occurs to Satin, so he covers Jon’s hand with his own and urges it down, squeezing and sliding up on Jon's cock as he wraps Jon’s fingers around his length to ensure that Jon is too mindless to let any such petty considerations as honor get in the way.

They make quite a mess of it when they both come, one after the other, Satin using every trick he knows to push Jon over the brink of his control before allowing himself to follow. He slumps against Jon’s chest, the ragged edge of his breathing mingling with Jon’s the way their moans had mingled just before. Satin expects Jon to push him away, to continue their dance, but to his surprise, Jon slides hesitant arms around Satin’s waist. When Jon drags his lips across Satin’s shoulder and hides a kiss behind his ear, Satin smiles. Seems like maybe next time, Jon won’t need quite so much convincing.


End file.
